Con She Called Love
by piperholmes
Summary: He had been prepared as he had entered their room, and found her staring out the window. His beautiful, sweet companion felt so keenly the hurt of others and the added weight of their baby only seemed to strengthen her tender side. He knew the pain of her sister's disappointment would flow through her almost as powerfully as if she had experienced it first hand. 3X03 one-shot.


**Con She Called Love**

**By: piperholmes**

**A/N Phew! Got this one in under the wire! It was a little hard to concentrate on last week's episode with this week's looming so large but I got it done. I'm not sure how this is going to go over. I will be interested in hearing everyone's thoughts because this story took a route I wasn't exactly planning. I was really effected by Sybil's tears over Edith and wanted to explore that a little more. Any hoo, enough from me, please enjoy. **

**Unbeta'd (try and hide your shock ;)**

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"_**My heart's breaking for my sister and the con that she called love"**_

"She didn't mean it."

Sybil turned at the sound of her oldest sister's voice.

Mary frowned lovingly at her. "She's quite happy to be an aunt."

It was kindly meant, but Sybil felt her throat tighten, and her eyes water again. She pressed her lips together and simply nodded, not sure she could risk speaking.

"Are you going down?" Mary pressed, clearly concerned over her sister's silence.

Sybil shook her head. The baby rolled beneath her skin.

Clearing her throat, her voice raspy, she forced out, "I think I'll lie down a moment."

It was Mary's turn to nod.

"Are you, do you think?" Sybil asked suddenly.

"Am I what, darling?"

"Pregnant," Sybil answered.

Mary couldn't help the small smile, even with the shadow of Edith's heartbreak cast over them. "No. I don't think so," the small smile morphed slightly into a teasing smirk when she added, "We English don't seem to work as quickly as the Irish."

She gave Sybil a knowing look, which prompted a small smile on her youngest sister's face.

As Mary turned to head downstairs Sybil called to her, "Mary, would you mind—"

With a wave of her hand she interrupted, "I'll send him up."

And she was gone.

Sybil moved to their room, her steps much slower than the moments previous. While she had been quite pleased to have been able to keep up with her sister on the dash back from the church, she realized now with the slight twinge in her back, she probably should have not have rushed so much. But what else could she do? Edith's world had just come crashing down.

That thought brought fresh tears to her eyes as she slipped through the door to her quiet sanctuary in the big house. She pulled off her lacy gloves and removed her hat. The baby continued to move, clearly awake and ready to play, rolling around. Sybil glanced at the bed, she had napped earlier in the day, in anticipation of all the excitement and activities of the wedding and subsequent celebration, and now that the baby was clearly not interested in sleeping at the moment, she bypassed lying down, and instead moved to the window.

The day had dawned so beautiful and perfect.

She heard the door open as she continued to gaze out across the green, lush grass of the estate. A moment later and she felt his hand against her back, pushing her own out of the way, allowing him to massage gently.

Sybil leaned back into his touch.

"That was quite a bit of activity for you," he whispered into her ear, his Irish accent making his teasing sound lyrical and beautiful.

She chuckled, then promptly burst into tears.

Having grown accustom over the last few months to Sybil's overly sensitive emotional state, Tom merely turned her in his arms and tucked her against his side. Her belly prevented him from fully pressing her to him; instead she was turned sideways, cradled by his arm, her face buried in his neck, a hand clutching at his morning coat as he held her.

When Mary had appeared sans Sybil he had known immediately his dear wife was upset, which considering the circumstances seemed rather obvious, only Mary's tired eye and tightly pressed lips haunted him.

With an elegant raise of a thin eyebrow, his sister-in-law offered him a ghost of a smile. "She's upstairs waiting for you."

Tom nodded and made to move passed her, pausing as her eyes darted about the room as desperately as he had ever seen.

"He's outside with your father," Tom offered.

Mary glanced at him, seemingly surprised by his astuteness, then without a word the two parted ways.

He had been prepared as he had entered their room, and found her staring out the window, lost in her thoughts. His beautiful, sweet companion felt so keenly the hurt of others and the added weight of their baby only seemed to strengthen her tender side. He knew the pain of her sister's disappointment would flow through her almost as powerfully as if she had experienced it first hand. No, he was not surprised by his wife's tears.

He soothed as best he could, whispering words of love and affection, his hands holding her tightly, feeling their child push against him. His concern grew when he heard her gasp.

Pushing away from him, she bent slightly, taking in slow deep breathes.

"Sybil?"

She leaned forward further, using her hands to press against her side. "I'm alright," she answered breathlessly, "I just couldn't catch my breath for a moment. Felt like the baby had rolled right under my lungs."

She pressed on her stomach a moment more, then stood straight, her red puffy eyes and pale cheeks a testament to her breakdown. She sniffled as daintily as possible, and Tom had to suppress a smile. He had married a Lady after all.

He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. "Alright now?"

Sybil wiped at her nose and shrugged. "I don't understand…how could he…I mean dear Edith…" She tucked her lips together then forced another shaky breath. "I'm going to be blubbering again," she warned.

"Is there anything I can do to make it better?" he petitioned, his arms again reaching for her.

The simple words he had used, echoing the sentiment that had been so wholly rejected by her middle sister just minutes previous, reminded Sybil of the harsh words that had left her confused.

Sybil stroked her belly. "She's so hurt Tom, her whole world has fallen apart and…and I can't help her because I think I only make it worse."

Tom's eyebrows furrowed with doubt as he cupped her elbow.

"It's true," Sybil insisted, "just now, she was so angry and hurt. She couldn't even look at me…or Mary. My baby, our child, reminded her of what she had just lost."

The single tear that rolled down her cheek broke him. The sadness that permeated the situation had never found a stronger voice than in that single tear.

Tom's instinct was to talk; it always had been, even as a child. He'd gotten more smacks to the head and mouth washings, than he cared to admit, but it hadn't done a bit of good. As an adult he had hardly curbed the impulse, easily arguing and disagreeing with those around him. It had landed him in hot water more than once but service had helped him develop the ability to better recognize how best to use his skills in communication and his marriage had only served to fine tune the ability. He had learned there was a time for constraint. Living with another person had been an adjustment for him, for them both, and the idea that two individuals could live together without making any adjustments and compromises or sacrifices had proved truly ridiculous.

It was too fresh in her mind, too close to her heart, and he knew that nothing he could say would be right, so he waited, silently, for her to help him know what to do.

"She loves him Tom, and I believe he loves her, how could it end up this way? Why didn't he fight for her? Or her for him?" Her honest and sincere question pounded in his chest.

"I don't know," and he truly didn't. He and Sybil had selfishly and completely held onto their love despite all obstacles, and it was hard to imagine anything standing in their way that could ever be stronger than that.

Her hand moved to her chest, pressing against her heart. "It hurts," she whispered, the lump forming again in her throat. "That night we tried to elope and they came to get me, I didn't think my heart could break anymore."

Tom blinked at her, a bit surprised by her redirection.

Sybil continued on, seemingly lost in her own world, "But I always knew, I knew that night as I left you standing there I would be with you again one day. There was nothing that would keep us apart."

Tom gave her a small, sad smile. It was hard to think of that night, the night when, for the first time since his time at Downton, he truly believed he'd lost her.

"Oh, Tom, how can Edith bear it? I think of it sometimes, in quiet moments. I think about what my life would be like if I had lost you. I can't..." She trailed off, her tears coming fresh as she slumped against him.

He felt it, and recognized it; this was the moment to speak. "Sybil, love, I won't tell you not to cry for your sister, but Edith's story isn't your story. Grieve for her, but don't do to her what so many did to us."

She raised her head to give him a perplexed look. "What do you mean?"

Tom stroked her tear-stained cheek, his voice soft and loving, as he explained, "People can't understand how we could be happy because they are always judging us by what they have, or what they believe should be. How could a lady and a chauffeur be happy? It defies reason, tradition."

Sybil shook her head slightly. "I don't understand."

"You see Edith and your heartbreaks for her because something awful has happened to her, but part of you sees it as so terrible because you want for her what you have. Just like people look at us and shake their heads because we aren't what they have, we don't fit their definition of happiness. Want Edith to be happy, but don't assume her happiness can only exist as you understand it. She doesn't need that kind of condescension."

Sybil pressed her lips together thoughtfully, and he could almost see her mind working and he waited, either for her acceptance or her argument. Finally she gave a small nod.

"Alright," she whispered, "I'll have to think on it a little more, because it is hard to separate my own happiness and the happiness I want for my sister. I see her hurting so much and I want to make it better, but you're right, I don't need to assume I know what will make her happiest."

The sorrow in his wife's voice prompted action and he pulled her to him, his hand running up and down her back. "My beautiful wife," he breathed.

Sybil nuzzled against his neck and asked, "Would you mind just…holding me for a little while?"

His arms tightened. "I'll hold you for as long as you need."

And he did.

The end

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**Thanks for reading! **

**So not the story I assumed would play out but one that I feel is more honest than what I originally planned, and I hope I made sense. It was hard for some reason to translate my thoughts on Edith into Tom's words. Until next time folks!**


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